Clockwork
by SaccharineDreams
Summary: Post-CU. Like clockwork, on the same day of the same month every year, the lilies appeared on her grave. No one knew for sure who had left them, but everyone had their own suspicions...  ON HIATUS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE
1. Joshua, 1933

**Warnings: **This contains spoilers for the entire manga series of Chrono Crusade which mostly deal with the last chapter and the epilogue of volume eight (chapters fifty-six and fifty-seven for those of you that read the scanlations). This piece is also going to be fairly lengthy, so if you're one who enjoys a quick read, this fic may not be the one for you. If you decide to read it anyway, I applaud your efforts, and will try my very best to make sure that they do not go unrewarded.

**A/N: **I am aware that Chrono's fate is never stated explicitly in the manga, and therefore I know that there are many different theories out there. For the intent of this fic, though, Chrono is still alive (although he is healing slowly).

Initially, this was going to be a one-shot focusing on Chrono's struggle with grief in the years following Rosette's death. However, as I thought about the idea, I realized that I wanted to know how Azmaria, Joshua, and the rest faired in the absent of Rosette as well. I knew that they were able to move forward with their lives, but I wondered how they had gone about it. It couldn't have been easy to cope with such a loss.

This is only part of the results of my musings.

**Acknowledgements: **To my manga-obsessed friends, and to my two unofficial betas. Thank you very much for the encouragement and critique. I couldn't have done it without you.

**Disclaimer: **I hereby disclaim all rights to these characters. They belong to Moriyama Daisuke-sensei. I just happen to enjoy playing with them.

**EDIT: **I fixed one minor error. Thanks to Kesa Ange for pointing it out! ^^

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The date was March 15, 1933. Today was the anniversary: the day that signified one year had come and gone since March 15, 1932.

Within the passing of that single year, Joshua Christopher rediscovered loss, although this time, it felt more certain. This time, he knew that his loved one was never coming back with a finality that could not be challenged.

Before, he hadn't known what had become of the person he cared about. All that he had known was that he missed her, his Fiore.

In the four years they worked together, she had become precious to him. In the quiet times spent with her when he was close to being lucid, he felt almost human.

When he learned that she had disappeared, he yearned once again for her companionship: for her to stay by his side as she had before.

Time marched onwards, and he continued to wait. Still, she did not return. Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, and months turned to years.

Waiting slowly became more difficult to endure, but he persisted. He threw himself into his work, to atone for his mistake: the lust for power he did not possess. Ultimately, this sin led him to take that which was not his, and in the process, his mind descended into a state in which he did not notice that he was leaving his sister behind.

His sister…

"Rosette…" Joshua's fists clenched at his sides, and he felt the thorns of the fresh roses he held dig into the soft flesh of his right hand. _It wasn't supposed to be this way. _But there was nothing he could do about it now.

Rosette had sacrificed everything for her only brother, searching for him faithfully. In an attempt to repay her, Joshua visited as often as he could.

Often times the sweet Angel that had been stolen away from all that she knew accompanied him on these pilgrimages. He had known the girl for a short time, before everything he had thought he'd known fell apart with the arrival of his half-forgotten past. He listened as she told stories of her own 'before,' and found that he could smile when she did and pretended not to notice her tears when the tales she wove weren't so pleasant.

Joshua eventually grew to know her as well as he had known the one he missed. He knew she could never replace his flower, but he had noticed long ago that her soul possessed a pure song of its own. With this, he realized that he could continue to wait. After all, Azmaria had been by his side waiting quietly for him.

It was soon after this epiphany that Joshua lost Rosette, who had fought her way to him despite all odds. His sister had never given up, even when he had refused to recognize her for who she was.

It was because of her that he had awakened from his dreams of chaos. Her influence permitted him to embrace his humanity again, and atone for all the sins he had committed while he still occupied that sacred place in his own personal Dreamland.

Joshua wished he could pin all the blame for Rosette's death on her former partner. It was Chrono who had stolen her time and Chrono who had caused her pain when he left. He was the Sinner: the demon that had drained the life from his sister's body.

And yet…he couldn't. As much as he wanted to, Joshua couldn't bring himself to do it. Yes, he had called Chrono a monster, and truthfully, Chrono possessed little innocence in the matter of his Contractor's death. However, the blame did not belong solely to the demon, either.

Chrono had tried to persuade the girl that there were other options. If Rosette would only wait, they would surely be able to find a solution that worked. The consequences of her choice would affect her for the rest of her life. He had told her of them: more than once.

Rosette doubted they had any other options. If there were, she knew it would be too late when they finally found the right one. They did not possess the time to wait. She refused to care about the consequences, even when Chrono repeated them to her.

She wasn't giving up; she could never give up. The one who meant the most to her was gone. He had been spirited away by a powerful otherworldly being: the one Chrono once called "brother."

Before, she could always count on Joshua to be there. They might not have had their parents, but they had always been there for each other. That's why she would do anything to get her brother back, even if the price would eventually be her life.

Rosette Christopher died at the age of twenty-four: the same age Joshua would be in less than a month's time. Still he could remember the way she had looked when she discussed her will with him the last morning he spent with her: her tired blue eyes shining as her lips curled into her trademark smirk, softened with age and experience. It surprised no one that Rosette found good humor even in death.

It was true that she had willingly made a contract with Chrono the Sinner. He had fed silently on her lifespan, the essence of her very_ soul_, reluctantly draining her until the contract was finally severed, but not before he had cost her a significant portion of her life.

However, Rosette had become Chrono's Contractor to save his life. She had never considered him to be a malevolent being; despite the warning he gave the girl and her brother when they met for the first time. He may have been a little quiet and cheerless in the beginning, but he also told wonderful, if chilling stories and he had bothered to listen when she went on and on about the suspicious priest whom she was convinced only wanted to adopt Joshua because of his "power."

Chrono had been her friend: a friend who wouldn't survive without horns or a Contractor. Since the first had been taken by her brother, Rosette decided that as his friend, she would provide the demon with what he needed in order to take back what they both had lost.

But the main reason she made the contract was because of Joshua. She blamed herself for the pain that he had felt.

She hadn't thought that he might hate having to be protected, hate being reassured that he would get better, hate the pity, the worry, the constant talk about him and his so-called _gift _that took place behind his back. She had only wanted the best for him, and so when he fell, she felt that she had fallen, too.

That was why he blamed himself for what had happened to his sister. Chrono had made Rosette his Contactor, but it was not by his choice. He would've looked for another way if she would've allowed him to.

Rosette had needed Chrono's help to find Joshua: him. If he hadn't been so envious of his sister's strength, if he hadn't accepted those damned horns, she wouldn't have had to make a contract with a demon. If it weren't for him, Rosette might have lived to see 1933.

"Seven years, Rosette. That's all the time I got to spend with you after four years apart. Seven years. And you know what? It wasn't enough. I spent too much of that time working with the Order while you stayed at Seventh Bell. I know I should've visited more, but I didn't have the time. God, why did you have to take away my sister? She was the only thing I had left, and now she's gone!"

Tears streamed silently down Joshua's face, but he ignored them. He had wasted one year trying to ignore the pain, run away from the guilt, and hide from his own anger, losing himself in the process. Now he felt every emotion he had previously attempted to suppress come flooding back, and he welcomed them all bitterly.

His sister never would've approved of this behavior. She was always one to advocate the freedom of expressing emotion; she was a well-known practitioner of the policy. He closed his eyes and the sight of Rosette's familiar cheerful expression twisted into a disappointed frown, her eyebrows furrowing together, greeted him.

'_It's not healthy to keep your emotions bottled up like that, Joshua_," he imagined she would admonish him. Azmaria frequently reminded him that Rosette _did _tell him that on a regular basis before she died, but he chose to ignore those comments, just as he chose to ignore the worried glances Azmaria shot him when she thought he wasn't looking. A hint of a smile appeared on his face before vanishing. _Az is always worrying about me when it isn't necessary._

"I wouldn't call my concern unnecessary, Joshua." The angelic voice of a familiar young woman greeted him. Joshua's eyes flew open and came to rest on Azmaria, who was giggling lightly at the flustered young man's boyish reaction to her sudden appearance. Upon feeling his eyes bore into her, she stopped.

"I can't read your mind, you know. You simply spoke your thoughts aloud," she teased gently, her eyes twinkling with mirth. Joshua's stare softened and a genuine smile broke his emotionless façade.

"How long have you been standing there, Az?" Joshua asked, rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous habit from boyhood that had yet to disappear.

"It's only been for a few minutes. I heard you yelling, so I thought I might come here to see what about," she said, twisting her hands around the bouquet of forget-me-nots she was holding.

"Az…" He could tell she was concerned.

"I know that you wanted to talk to Rosette alone, and I tried to respect that, but Joshua, you have to understand that when I heard your shouts I thought something might be wrong and I couldn't just leave you alone like that and—" She was silenced when he put a finger to her lips.

"Shhhh, Az. I'm all right now. You don't need to worry about it," Joshua made an effort to persuade her, but she paid his feeble attempts at reassurance no mind. Azmaria swatted away the placating hand he attempted to put on her shoulder that had formerly been placed at her lips aside. Her ears refused to believe the pretty lies.

"Don't try to tell me that you're 'all right now.' You haven't been all right since Rosette died, Joshua, whether you'll admit it or not. You can't keep doing this forever. You just can't! What would your sister think if she was here? What would she say if she saw that you weren't trying?" Tears rolled freely down her cheeks. Joshua restrained himself from submitting to his heart's desire to brush them away. He absolutely _loathed_ seeing Azmaria in such a distressed state. It was especially so when he was the cause of it.

"She wouldn't say anything, because I _am_ trying," he insisted. "I just…I don't know what to do. My sister's gone, Azmaria, and I'm never going to see her again."

"You mean _we _are never going to see her again," Azmaria softly corrected with a sniffle. Joshua gave her another genuine, though melancholic smile.

"Yes. We aren't going to see her again. She passed away. Her soul's traveling down the Astral Line now. Maybe she's even reunited with our parents…" Joshua said wistfully, staring up at the "Ring" that contained the remnants of Pandaemonium.

Sometimes, he pretended that he could see the Astral Line stretching out forever beside it, much as he truly did see it eight years ago with Rosette. That was the first and last time he had ever seen the Astral Line, but there were times when he believed that he could sense it. During those times, he questioned whether his powers were truly gone or simply sleeping within him: dormant until a time when he needed them once more.

"Joshua…Rosette may be gone, but she isn't truly dead," Azmaria exclaimed suddenly, bringing him swiftly back to the present. Joshua glanced down at her face in an effort to discern what she meant, but his observations gave him no hints about her ideas.

"Azmaria, what…?" What was she talking about?

"Don't you remember what she told us, Joshua? The day Beth informed me that it was likely Rosette wouldn't live through another fit?"

The light in Joshua's eyes appeared to dim.

"The year before she died?" he asked reluctantly. Azmaria nodded.

"Yes. Rosette told us that as long as we still lived, she would not die, because her memory would continue to live on in our hearts. You remember that, don't you?" Joshua said nothing, but his silence told her all she wished to hear.

That evening, with the cool air of early spring ruffling the rough fabric of the uniform that stood for his atonement, he had hesitantly accepted that his sister was going to die before she reached the age of thirty.

He had known perhaps since the day they were reunited. At the time, his mind had hurriedly skipped over the topic, wishing not to disturb the relief he had felt when his sister's soul was called back from the recesses of the pocket watch where it had taken refuge.

However, the notion did not vanish. He often found it lurking in the shadows of his thoughts when he spent time with his sister. As he grew older, it resurfaced more frequently. More than once he found himself wondering how much time she had left. When he and Azmaria visited, he feverishly hoped it wouldn't be the last time they saw her alive.

The day they learned of her attack was the day Joshua began to build a stone wall around his heart. When the sight of his sister, lying on her bed, pale in the face and short of breath, met his eyes, the fragile glass of his heart fractured. The wall he was building could not protect him from the empty longing he felt for his _before_: the times he and his sister shared as innocent children, without any care but for their parents who were not yet dead and each other.

He attempted to hide it, but Rosette saw right through him. Her one-time failure to notice his hatred of her sympathy taught her to sense his true emotions when no one else could. Her confrontation turned to his accusation: she had known that her life would be cut short. She had known the consequences of her actions, and she had _ignored_ them.

Rosette's laughter rang out, an impish grin tugging playfully at the corners of her mouth. Although it lacked the strength it once possessed, for a split second Joshua found it impossible to discern the woman his sister had become from the girl she had been.

'_Yes, I knew I would be paying this price.' _She coughed: a tribute to the illness that her body was slowly succumbing to. _'But without the contract, I wouldn't have been able to see you again. So it was definitely worth it._'

Two years had passed since then, but the moment remained perfectly preserved in his mind as the fracture in his glass heart continued to deepen no matter how high he built his wall of stone.

"It will never leave, will it? This pain," he murmured to Azmaria dully. He heard her breath catch in her throat: the surprise at his open expression of emotion. He had not freely spoken of his feelings to her in what seemed like an eternity. Gently she uncurled the fingers on his left hand, slipping her hand in his when there was enough space. He silently marveled at how slender yet strong her fingers were, easily intertwining with his. At last she spoke.

"The pain will linger, yes. However, I believe it will become easier to bear with time." She gave his hand a soft, reassuring squeeze. He sighed: a heavy sound that carried the burden of his grief.

"I won't ever stop missing her, Az." He was careful to avoid her eyes; Rosette was not the only Christopher who possessed tenacity. Emotions rarely wrote themselves across his face, but his eyes forever revealed the true nature of his current thoughts, thoughts that he did not wish for Azmaria to see.

He was blind to her knowledge of the emptiness he felt. She did not have to see his eyes to know that they lacked their usual luster because her own were close to losing theirs.

However, this did not mean that she was without hope for their future.

"I don't believe I will either, Joshua, but dwelling on the past was something Rosette never did. We have to keep moving forward. It's what she would have wanted." The sudden strength in her voice urged him to meet her eyes: his resolve melted and azure fell to pale pink. Her mouth turned up at the corners in a tiny smile, and he caught a glimpse at how the world looked through her rose-colored eyes.

Hope lived in Azmaria, burning like a fierce light behind her eyes. Though her time as an Apostle was over, the beautiful purity of her song continued to resonate within her soul. If he listened closely, Joshua could hear echoes of it keeping time with the beating of their hearts.

He broke the eye contact to gaze up at the sky. The sun had become obscured by dark clouds, foreshadowing the weather's intentions. The thought of spring showers brought an image of his ten-year-old sister staring out the window of her bedroom at Seventh Bell forth from deep within the archives of his memory. _Tap, tap, tap_ went her restless fingers against the glass as she waited impatiently for the rain to cease its falling.

The long-ago memory was not dissimilar to a more recent time. Rosette had just had one of her last fits. Beth, ever the cautious one, had confined Rosette to her room until she deemed her well enough. Rosette's objections fell on deaf ears: Beth refused to budge.

As a result, Rosette had propped her pillow up on the bed so that she could look outside even while lying down. Joshua found her doing exactly that when he and Azmaria finally arrived after receiving Beth's letter. His sister's expression had been identical to the one she had worn on rainy days when they were younger.

Reflecting on this, Joshua supposed that some things never changed. Looking at Azmaria, however, reminded him that things were different than they had been back then.

"I think I'm ready." His voice rang with the undertone of a conclusion: this meant no turning back.

"Ready for what, Joshua?" Her hopeful tone was also hesitant, as if she was unsure if she could trust his words.

"I think I'm ready to move forward again, Az. Rosette wouldn't want me to live like this forever. Besides, if she were here, she'd probably conk me on the head for being such a wet blanket," he confirmed, giving Azmaria a grin. She smiled in return, giggling.

"You're right, Joshua, she probably would, but it would be for your own good. You shouldn't be so unhappy," she chastised lightly.

"I suppose you're right, then, although that means that you have to be happy, too," he reminded her. The young woman's face flushed a pretty shade of pink.

"I am happy, Joshua. I'm happy that you've finally come here with me. It's a big step forward."

"I guess I'm going in the right direction then, huh?" Joshua made light of his situation, though his eyes shone with tears.

Azmaria chose to clasp both of his hands in hers: an affirmation that spoke louder than any word. Yes, he was going in the right direction: forward, just as she had known he would.

For Joshua had made her a promise, sealed in the form of the golden ring she wore on her left hand. Until his life's clock ceased its constant ticking, he would walk beside Azmaria on the path that their lives created together. Turning back had never been an option.

It was a short while before Joshua spoke again.

"Should we go? I don't want to get caught in the rain…" _Plip. Plop. Plip. Plop. _

"It's a bit late for that, Joshua," Azmaria noted, her face turned up to the heavens as a light rain began to spill forth.

"Well then, I suppose there's no choice in the matter." Joshua placed his bouquet of roses on the marble beneath the tombstone and turned to leave. "Azmaria, you're coming, aren't you?" He glanced back at her impatiently. Rain made driving a rather unpleasant experience, and he wanted to get on the road before conditions worsened.

"Joshua, do you know anyone else who's visited the cemetery today?" Joshua blinked as he absorbed the information, promptly forgetting his annoyance with the rain.

"…Azmaria?" Her intense gaze had turned from the heavens to Rosette's grave.

"Look." He followed her gesturing hand to a bouquet of flowers resting against Rosette's tombstone next to Azmaria's forget-me-nots that Joshua hadn't noticed before.

"What, those flowers? People do tend to put flowers on the graves of their loved ones."

"No, Joshua. _Look_." She continued to point at the bouquet of flowers. The young man sighed.

"I am looking, Az. All I see is another bouquet. What's so strange about that?" He could not detect any abnormality about the other bouquet: her strange fascination with it puzzled him.

Azmaria sighed in frustration.

"Joshua, out of everyone we know, who was visiting the cemetery today besides us?"

His mouth opened, and then closed: silence.

"Father Remington was travelling to another church today, it pains Beth too much to visit this time of year, Sister Kate will be arriving in another two weeks, Bill and Nelly are at school, and Mary, Claire, and Anna came last month," Azmaria informed him. "I've already spoken with everyone else. No one we know was coming today besides us."

"Someone could have said something," Joshua suggested, but the doubt in Azmaria's eyes was contagious, and his own feeble excuse of an explanation sounded false to even his ears.

"In the end, Rosette was held in high regard by the Order for what she did, despite her contract with Chrono. We both know that no one has said anything. It was her last request, Joshua," the former Songstress of Vegas stated.

"Are you sure those flowers are fresh?" he asked, still trying to find a plausible explanation.

"They'd have wilted by now if they were a month old." The matter-of-fact way she said it made her conversational intentions obvious to Joshua. Inside the privacy of his own mind, Joshua sighed. It seemed that Azmaria was going to cling to her desperate hope forever.

"It wasn't him, Az," Joshua said tiredly. He didn't need to tell her who he was referring to any more than he needed to tell her how tired he was of this argument.

"Joshua, please don't say that. We don't know whether he's dead or not," Azmaria pleaded. The hope alight in her eyes extinguished the bitterness that survived in his heart, and he sighed audibly: a sound of defeat. He could not deny the truth in Azmaria's words.

One year after Rosette's death, there was little they knew about the whereabouts of Chrono the Sinner. Azmaria and Joshua had no clue if he had remained on the mortal plane or if he had returned to the Astral Line as Rosette had.

The small amount of evidence that they did have came in the form of the reappearance of Rosette's broken pocket watch that had disappeared mysteriously over seven years before and the peaceful smile of complete satisfaction that adorned Rosette's lifeless face on the day her soul returned to the Astral Line.

"It could just be a coincidence, you know," Joshua reminded her. He was reluctant to discuss the topic of Chrono. Usually he avoided the subject whenever she brought it up, but today, on the anniversary of his sister's death, he found that it could not be ignored.

"I'd like to believe that it isn't, Joshua. Rosette was holding the pocket watch in her hands, and she looked happier than I had seen her in years. Chrono had to have returned the watch to her. I think he must have had it the whole time, because she never did tell me exactly what happened to it," Azmaria mused before shivering violently. Joshua noticed immediately, and was reminded by the way his white dress shirt was beginning to stick to his skin that it was still raining—and getting worse every second that they continued to stand here.

"You could be right, and you could be wrong, but we've got to get out of this rain before you catch a cold. I told you that you should've brought your coat, Az." He could muse about past events at a later date. Presently, his wife was shivering because she had left her coat in the car.

"Joshua! I'm fine!" Azmaria protested when he draped his black suit jacket over her shoulders.

"Azmaria, please go get in the car. I'll be right behind you in a minute." He waved a hand at her. Now that he examined the flowers more closely, he noticed something a little odd about them…

"I'm not leaving until you do." Azmaria said stubbornly, crossing her arms. Joshua smiled then: evidently his sister had inadvertently influenced her younger sister-in-law in more ways than one.

"All right then, we'll go back to the car together. I found what I was looking for anyway," he added when she gave him a puzzled stare.

On Rosette Christopher's grave, there were three bouquets of flowers: a dozen red roses, eight forget-me-nots, and seven white lilies.

Azmaria Christopher wanted her friend to return, but her husband knew that would likely never happen. It would take time for him to completely forgive the kind-hearted Sinner, just as it was taking time to forgive himself. However, Joshua knew that Chrono's remorse far surpassed his own anger with the demon.

Joshua's roses stood for atonement, Azmaria's forget-me-nots for remembrance. The lily commonly symbolized death, but in the case of the demon who loved his sister, the former Apostle suspected that the bouquet of seven lilies stood for an apology.

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**A/N:** I have a few notes before I go. One: thank you all so very much for reading! Feel free to send me a PM or a review if you have questions/comments/constructive criticism. I'd be happy to clear up any misconceptions! Two: My updating schedule is listed in my profile, but it's subject to change depending on real life. I try to update it frequently, so be sure to check back there if I don't follow my normal schedule! Three: I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!


	2. Chrono, 1934

**Warnings: **Spoilers for the entire manga series.

**A/N: **This chapter is different from the last in that it's the second one (of course), it's in the present tense _and _first person, and it has not been looked over by my unofficial betas. I would have asked them for some guidance, but they both have a lot on their plates this year, and I wouldn't want to add to their burdens. As such, this is my first solo effort! I hope to find replacement betas at some point, but in the meantime, my own critical eye will have to do. And hopefully it did, for your benefit!

This was a little longer than I intended it to be, but the particular character whose point of view this is from decided that he had more to say than I had anticipated. It's no longer than the last chapter, but it's certainly longer than I thought it would be.

**Disclaimer: **I hereby do disclaim all rights to these characters. They belong to Moriyama-sensei. I just happen to enjoy playing with them.

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I stand in front of the granite stone, wishing impossibly that I possessed the ability to change the name it bears. The date is March 15, 1934: the second anniversary. Two years ago today, Death spirited Rosette away to a place I will never reach.

There are flowers on her grave: beautiful white roses. I wonder who could have put them there. They appear to be fresh… As I ponder this, the image of a one-time adversary turned advisor enters my mind out of the blue, and the identity of the person who left the bouquet dawns on me. My lips quirk into a tiny smile, even as grief threatens to strangle my heart with poisonous iron fingers. Even in his "old" age, Remington still has style.

I carefully lower myself to a kneeling position, wincing slightly when my injured knee hits the ground. I feel like an elderly man, which is not far from the truth. My youthful appearance deceives humans: I surpassed the age of twenty decades ago.

I don't remember what it was like to be young. I had never truly experienced the human phenomena known as childhood before meeting Rosette. Perhaps that is why I was surprised that being with her came so naturally to me. But then, Rosette always managed to bring out the best in everyone she met, myself included. Sister Kate was the lone exception: my partner brought out the best _and _the worst in her.

Even now, ten years later, I still remember what happened after the incident in New York Harbor. Remington had just returned from Mexico, and I was stuck playing bellboy. I don't believe I'll ever understand why the man wanted someone half his size to carry his suitcase for him. Granted, my own strength had nothing to do with my seemingly small stature: carrying Remington's bags was not a difficult task for me. What I couldn't comprehend was why Remington would ask me to carry his luggage when he was perfectly capable of handling it himself.

I had thought that the Magdalan Order wanted me to attempt to blend in. That was, after all, why Sister Kate had reluctantly purchased new clothing for me after they finally allowed me to fully assist Rosette in her duties as an Exorcist of the Order.

Oddly or not so oddly enough, it was Remington that convinced her to do it. He reasoned that the outfit I had worn previously was fifty years out of date: if I wore it, I would draw unneeded attention to myself, and therefore, the Order by association. When Sister Kate interjected that my unusual appearance would disturb civilians regardless of what I was wearing, I could find no reason to object. Of the few humans I had known within my lifetime, none had possessed violet hair, crimson-colored eyes, pointed ears, or elongated canines.

Remington did not dispute her point, choosing instead to remind her that all of these things were only questioned if there was suspicious behavior that accompanied it. Therefore, if I behaved, I would not create a disturbance. Sister Kate could surely not object to such reason, and she didn't. Thus, I was allowed to aid Rosette on her "missions," acting as both a partner and, when the situation called for it, a protector.

I was not, however, to show any signs of being anything other than a normal, young boy unless I had no other choice. It was strange enough that a twelve-year-old boy and a fourteen-year-old girl were working together to exorcise demons. I didn't need to add the fact that I wasn't human into the mix.

Of course Remington would be the sole member of the Order to deliberately ignore the oddity of a prepubescent boy carrying a male adult's luggage. Then again, Remington tended to ignore orders that he deemed unsavory…

Sister Kate had called the Order's famously destructive Sister into her office, which is where Remington was headed. Again, I wasn't sure why. Maybe he had wanted to report to Sister Kate. Maybe he had sensed that something was happening. He _had_ chuckled when he saw what Sister Kate was doing to Rosette. Who knew that someone like the head nun of the Magdalan Order had such a violent streak? Evidently, Rosette didn't. Otherwise, she wouldn't have ended up in such an _interesting_ situation.

I miss seeing that sometimes. I miss her laughter that sounded of bells, even when it was at my expense. I miss waking her up when she slept in too late (which was often). I miss staying up all night with her, talking about nothing and everything, when she couldn't sleep. I even miss her "noogie attacks," but most of all, I miss Rosette.

I wish I could have taken her place; that it was my name instead of hers on the granite stone before me. Not that they would have given me the privilege of a proper burial, but I mean it figuratively more than literally. I would have died with her, but Rosette refused to let me. Before her eyes closed for the final time, she made a request.

'_I know that when I board the train this time, it will be a one-way trip. Before I go, though, there's something you need to know, something that I've been meaning to tell you for a long time.' _Rosette laughed weakly at my confused expression. _What else was there for her to tell me? She had already—_

'_It's not that,' _she interrupted, and my train of thought came crashing to a halt._ 'You know that already; I told you before you left, and I don't feel the need to repeat myself. It's about something that Magdalena told me, before I returned to you. Before I tell you, I must confess that I know you don't want to live, whether you'll admit to it or not.'_

This should not have come as a shock, but somehow, perhaps due tomy own denial, it did. I had not wanted her to know that my secret desire, the one I held closest to my heart, was to die with her.

I knew my reasoning confused her, but in my mind, it was simple: my heart was with her. What was the harm in my soul following hers, if my heart already belonged to her? Hadn't I told her that my home was wherever she was? If she died, I would no longer have a home to go back to, and there would be no point for me in continuing life in this realm.

I said nothing of the sort then, for I'm sure that all of it was plainly displayed on my face. Rosette always managed to detect my true feelings, even before she knew my full story. She had to be able to, I supposed, in order to trust me when we forged the contract.

It was a fortunate gift to have, her trust. I never would have been able to leave had she not trusted that I would return. Leaving remains one of my many regrets. I'm sure she knew, too, but in the moment we were reunited, I still hated myself for allowing my absence to continue long enough to cause her to doubt me.

Rosette, however, paid no attention to my inner dilemma, for she did not pause even as she saw the horror in my lone, visible eye.

'_Magdalena showed me one of her visions right before she left. She asked that I don't share it with you, and I'm not about to break a promise with my dying breath,' _Rosette's short chuckle turned into a cough, and she struggled to maintain her breathing.

'_But I can tell you this: you must not follow me, no matter what your heart desires to do. You have to live, for Magdalena, and for me. I'm sorry I can't tell you why, but please live. Live, and happiness will return in due time. Magdalena promises. _I _promise.'_

Then she whispered something so soft, I could barely catch it. Nevertheless, I did, and my eyes filled. Oddly, she laughed at this. The strange seraphic tone resonated with my heart, and I knew she didn't have much time left. Still, she smiled, and my heart skipped a beat; that smile had lit up the darkest of my nights.

'_Rosette…' _Her smile softened, and the fading light in her eyes burned brilliantly for a split second.

'_I know, Chrono,'_ she whispered. As soon as my name left her lips, mine were upon hers. Our second last kiss was short but fierce, filled with all of the pain, loss, suffering, _joy_ we shared during the four years we spent together. When we pulled apart at last, I noticed that the light in Rosette's eyes had grown noticeably dimmer within the span of less than a minute. I could sense the Astral levels changing around us: the inevitable was drawing nearer, and we both knew it. Rosette cleared her throat.

'_Chrono, remember what I told you. Don't let go of hope, even in the face of despair. Please, smile for me.'_ I nodded mutely, and as if in a trance, I obeyed her final request: a small smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. The light behind her eyes flared up once more before vanishing into the hazy depths of her irises. An impossible look of contentment bloomed on her face, and the tears building in my eyes spilled over.

I wished it had been different then. I wished that I had never left her, that we had been able to spend more time together. I wished, unreasonably, that my brother had never taken an interest in hers, that we had been able to stay that way, just the three of us, together for the rest of eternity.

However, as much as I mourned the loss of her, of us, I realized guiltily that had it come to a choice between allowing Rosette into my life at the cost of her own or refusing to go with her and dying a lonely death in Magdalena's burial chamber, I would have chosen the former. I couldn't willingly give up a life with her: she meant too much to me.

The end came too soon. I remember watching helplessly as the life drained from Rosette's face, her eyes involuntarily sliding shut; feeling the sliver of the connection remaining between our souls fade to nothing. She, my precious light, the true reason I had continued to live up until then, was gone, leaving only the vessel her soul had stubbornly clung to for so long behind.

My eyes water involuntarily as the last of the memory gradually fades from my vision and I return to the present, where I am still kneeling in front of the polished rock bearing my last Contractor's name.

I sigh. Even two years later, Rosette's last words continue to haunt me. She knew that the only future I wanted was one with her in it, that to me, life in this realm was pointless without her. So why was it that she wanted me to live when she knew that living in her absence would only cause me pain?

The fact that one of Magdalena's visions caused her to make such a request does not help matters.

During the time she spent with us, Magdalena said little about her visions. The first and last time I ever heard her speak of them at length was the night that my horns were taken by Aion, and then the only thing about my future she mentioned was that I would be the one to 'take her life.'

Until Rosette made her request, I hadn't even known that Magdalena possessed the ability to share what she saw with others. It made me wonder if she had been aware of the ability when she was alive, and if she had known about it, why she hadn't shared any of her visions with me.

If I hadn't been so preoccupied with the fact that Rosette was dying, I may have even been a little jealous that Magdalena had shared a vision with her and she hadn't bothered to tell me about it until then. However, considering I hadn't seen or spoken with Rosette in roughly seven and a half years, I supposed that could be forgiven.

After all, I was the one who lied to her in order to save her life.

I gaze at Rosette's simple tombstone wistfully. If only I had been able to take her with me. Perhaps then we would have had more time together. But I know it is wishful thinking. Had I once more been given the choice between Rosette's safety guaranteed at the cost of her company and Rosette's company at the cost of her safety, I would choose the former.

I had indulged myself once. I had allowed myself to be persuaded into leaving Magdalena's tomb by a twelve-year-old girl. Later, the same girl convinced me to allow her to be my Contractor.

I stole much of the time she was to be on Earth because of that accursed Contract.

However, those four years spent beside her were also four of the most memorable years of my extremely long life.

It was for this reason that I chose to leave her behind that fateful day. Those precious days meant that I had a future: a future with Rosette. I could not allow that future to be jeopardized in any way, even if it came at the cost of separation from the one I had been so desperate to save.

I had no way of knowing that in the end, I would not have a future with Rosette, would never receive the chance to spend the rest of her life at her side, would not ever be able to chase away her fears again. The fight with Aion cost me that.

I should have seen it coming. I knew from the beginning that he wasn't going to die easily. Aion had never been one to give up. Ever since I can remember, he has always refused to back down, especially when issued a challenge.

That was why it did not surprise me when he didn't stop to cut his losses after Pandaemonium severely injured Genai and Rizelle. True, it may have hurt him deeply to see our comrades in such a vulnerable state, but that didn't mean that he was going to stop trying to obtain Pandaemonium's memories. To him, such a setback merely meant that reaching his goal was going to be a little harder than he had previously thought.

It was this tenacity that brought him to the core of Pandaemonium, where I found him, waiting. With his sword destroyed, Aion had no way of regenerating any limbs he lost in battle. Of course, even with this new setback, Aion's plans remained unchanged. He was not about to give up his ideal of a world free from bonds and ties, and I wasn't about to give up on Rosette's future.

I heave another sigh. I would rather not recall the battle that followed, but the images flash through my mind regardless of my own wishes.

In my mind's eye, I see Aion lying in a pool of his own blood, smirking up at me as his eyes drain of all light. I remember cursing him even as I mourned his death. I wanted to hate him for what he had done to Magdalena, Rosette and Joshua, and me. I truly did. I could never forgive him for manipulating the people I loved like pawns in one of his chess games simply because he wanted to reach his unobtainable goal.

However, even then, I couldn't hate him. Aion may have been an idiot lost forever in his schemes and dreams, but he was still my brother and my former best friend. I couldn't help but love him, even as I drove my claws into his chest.

I wince, and the memory vanishes as quickly as it appeared. My whole body shudders in blatant disapproval. Apparently, kneeling on the ground for a long period of time is not a good idea when your body believes its age to be over seventy years older than it appears to be.

The undeniable truth in that statement makes me even more aware of the unfortunate fact that my ability to heal quickly died along with Pandaemonium.

Not that I no longer possess the ability to heal: I do, because my horns remain intact, as does their source of energy, the Astral Line. Pandaemonium may not need me alive now, but I still control the legion in my body.

Aion would probably say that it's because of my strong will. That may very well be true, but I think it has more to do with Rosette's last request…and Magdalena's.

I had thought that my time ended over half a century ago. Magdalena and later Rosette proved otherwise. That is why I keep moving forward: because my End has yet to arrive.

Rosette asked me to wait. I don't know for how long it will be. She waited almost eight years for me to return to her, so I am more than willing to wait as long as it takes for Happiness to return.

Someday, I will regain sight in my left eye, and my right arm will fully heal. When that time comes…I'll be ready.

I sigh…and then freeze.

I hear voices…_inside my head._

There are two of them.

Two achingly familiar voices…

'_I wonder if he's been here yet today.'_ Her tone sounds wistful.

'_I wonder if Ewan knows we're staying nearby. I hope he does.'_ His screams of practicality.

I know they're here to see Rosette.

'_Maybe…no…he couldn't possibly…but maybe…' _I want to believe that I'm imagining the hope in her inner _voice_.

'…_I hope it doesn't rain._' He hasn't changed.

'_I would really enjoy seeing him again…' _Nor has she: the hope I heard did not come from my imagination.

'_I wonder if _he _left the same kind of flowers again.' _I can't pretend that I don't hear the slight bitterness in his _voice_.

'_Even just one time would be nice._'

I wish desperately that I didn't long to see her again...to see them _both_ again.

'_Knowing him, he probably did.' _

I know I can't.

'_I know he thinks what he did was wrong, but…'_

It _was_ wrong. She's in denial.

'_She wants so badly to see him again.'_

I hate that he's laying on the guilt, and he doesn't even know it.

'_Rosette never hated him for it.'_

She should have.

'_He could at least do a little more than leave the flowers to let her know he's alive.'_

'I _didn't hate him for it.'_

No, she didn't. I suspected she never would.

'_I…wouldn't mind talking to him, either. There are some things that I never got to say to him_…'

Perhaps he didn't, either.

But I know it's no matter. I must take my leave now.

For I fear that if I see them…

I will not be able to.

I gently set the bouquet I have been holding for so long on top of the grave. Then, placing my left hand on Rosette's tombstone for leverage, I stagger to my feet.

Unfortunately, I can not tune out the _voices_ of Joshua Christopher and Azmaria Hendric: the only two remaining of my adoptive family that I know of.

Well.

Two of the only _three_ remaining: knowing how resourceful Shader is, she's probably still alive. It won't surprise me if I run into her in a decade or two. Maybe it will be sooner, if she knows where I am.

I settle for turning their minds' chatter into background noise as I make my way along the path, taking a longer route to the exit so I can avoid confrontation.

"Wait!" It's too late. Azmaria has seen me, or possibly my hair. I have taken to wearing it in a braid since Rosette's passing, but I suppose that may not have been the most brilliant idea I've ever had. I make a note to cut it later so it's less noticeable.

"Chrono…"

I stop when she says my name, but I don't turn around. I can't.

There is no telling what may happen if I do.

"Please…" I attempt to ignore the desperation in her tone.

"Don't leave yet."

I fail miserably.

"Azmaria, Joshua." I say their names quietly. Still, I do not turn around.

"Chrono…" Joshua addresses me hesitantly. I open my mind to his _voice_, and I hear his unspoken question.

'_You're going to leave again, aren't you?'_

Even though my back is turned to him, I give him a slight nod. I think he notices, because his next thought is:

'_Az will miss you_._ She has missed you, you know. She's missed you since you left nine years ago._'

I didn't need him to tell me that, but I don't say so. Instead, I choose to say the two words I've wished to say to them for nine years.

"I'm sorry."

Then, I continue on my way out of the cemetery.

"Wait, Chrono—!" But in her heart, I'm sure Azmaria knows I can't.

I have to keep moving forward, and as much I don't want to, I know I have to leave Joshua and Az behind in order to do so.

If I stay, all I will do is hold them back.

After all, they too have to keep moving forward.

For now, I will hold on to the hope that some day, they will understand…

And maybe, when they do…

Happiness can fully return to them, as well.

* * *

**A/N:** First of all, I must apologize for the incredibly long wait! I honestly didn't mean for it to take so long to get this second chapter out, but sometimes things happen. But hey, it's here! Even if it _has_ been over six months since the publication date. In the future, I'll try not to make you wait so long!

As usual, if there are any comments or concerns you wish to address, please feel free to drop me a review or a PM, and I will be happy to assist you in any way I can. Thanks so much for reading!


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